Three times Thomas was kind to Anna
by theyliveon
Summary: Thomas doesn't mean to be nice, not to Anna, not to anyone. But there is something about her, maybe her sheer "niceness" or her kind eyes, that irritate him but make him want to be less of a prick around her. Set after 3.09.
1. Chapter 1

Thomas was making his rounds in the upstairs halls, as, (unecessarily) reminded by Mr. Carson, part of his role as under-butler was to be on hand in case his lordship, the Earl of Mowbray or any of his retinue were in need of anything the house could provide, prior to dinner, which was to be served in two hours.

It wasn't a difficult assignment, not at all, but it was nothing like when Count Lethbridge had come for a visit last fall: now there was a man that Thomas, not to mention the females of the house, upstairs and downstairs, probably wouldn't have minded waiting on, hand and foot. Easy on the eyes, obviously elegant and not a demanding prig.

Not so this lot. The only pleasure, if any, that Thomas would derive from the current group of house guests was that his duties would require him to spend a great deal of his day upstairs, and possibly away from the house during the luncheon picnic, away from the servants' hall, and the more time away from that asinine group the better, if you asked him.

As he made his sweep down the 2nd corridor, he heard a muffled cry. He paused, trying to determine the source and cause of the sound. It sounded female, and distressed. There was a thump to his left and he walked briskly towards it. Distinctly, he heard a "Please.." It came from the room immediately before him.

Without thinking, he rapped on the door, twice, followed with, "Hello, is everything alright?"

The door snapped open, and before him was... Thomas quickly reviewed the guestlist. Ah, yes, the second-or-something cousin of Mowbray, visiting from America. Brawny and muscular, this one...Christoph Jensen, yes, that was it, had a pinched look about him Thomas had thought made him seem a pain to wait upon. Thank god the Earl's own man would be dressing Mr. Jensen, as Thomas would probably have been called upon to act as valet. He looked irritated, though neat enough, save for a red mark on his cheek and one cuff that had yet to be buttoned.

"What is it?" Mr. Jensen barked out.

Thomas snapped upright and replied, "I thought I heard a fall and was just checking to see if..."

To Thomas' astonishment, he saw Anna step out from behind the guest. Well, well, well, what was this?

Without meeting Thomas' eyes, she blurted, rather hastily, "I was just making up the room when Mr. Jensen returned from the grounds tour."

Bobbing quickly to their guest, she added, "Your pardon. I thought you'd all be returning later." And she quickly stepped out and headed down the hall.

Thomas stated, "If all is in order, please excuse me, Mr. Jensen. Let us know if you need anything" and stepped back. Thankfully, Jensen curtly nodded and shut the door in Thomas' face.

Thomas turned and fairly shot after Anna. There was no way he would let this go. He caught up to her right away, even with her brisk steps, and from behind her, sneered,

"In the bedroom of a male houseguest. So, the good Mrs. Bates is not as..."

For the second time today, Anna surprised him when he heard a fierce, "Shut up, Thomas," and then a noise that sounded awfully like a sob cut short.

Momentarily alarmed, he stepped forward until he could see her face, and was caught off guard to see the normally composed Anna pale as a sheet, looking completely wretched, hand pressed against her chest.

He wasn't completely an ass, no matter what anyone thought - not that he cared what anyone thought - and he had to admit that if anyone in this household deserved even an ounce of his sympathy, if he had any, it was Anna, who despite her atrocious husband, had sometimes shown him extraordinary kindness. To this day, he remembered her touch and words of sympathy for him when the news of Sybil's death had broken. And she had never, not once, judged him or expressed...disgust in him, when that incident with Jimmy had occurred last year. For that, she deserved his...what? His disinterested...interest. Yes, his interest.

He heard footsteps around the corner, and not wanting to be caught making a scene, he quickly grasped Anna's arm and pulled her, letting go once they were in the adjacent room.

He realized as soon as he had touched her that she was shaking. There were tear tracks on her face, and she had an arm wrapped tightly around her waist and he noticed that the wrist wrapped there was mottled, as if it had been recently gripped tight. As if, by a strong hand. A male hand.

His mouth tightened. Jensen, had he been accosting Anna? What a bastard.

Thomas wasn't protective or concerned about anyone but himself (except Jimmy, though he would never admit that to anyone, save Jimmy), but hell, no guest should come into this house and...attack anyone, even the servants.

"Anna... Mrs. Bates...are you alright?" His tone was gentler than he had expected, and Anna at least, at last, snapped out of her little fit, and took in a deep breath.

"Thomas, I'm alright. Thank you for that..." and she stopped, breathing deeply again.

"Did that man," Thomas began, but was cut short when Anna interrupted.

"Nothing happened. I will handle it...I just need a minute," and she leaned against the wall and closed her eyes.

For one second, Thomas felt a bit helpless, the feeling he had gotten sometimes when he had been a medic. He wasn't sure and didn't really want to know if anything had happened in Mr. Jensen's room, but his gut tightened at the idea of anyone being forced, in that way... he immediately cut his thoughts, his memories, short.

Remembering his training about treating shock, he kept his voice even, smooth, and asked, "Would you like me to send for Mr. Bates?"

Anna opened her eyes and looked directly at him then. "No, absolutely not, Thomas. No, don't say anything to him. Promise me."

He started, resisting being told what to do, even now, and felt his inclination towards calculating how he could use this moment to his personal advantage; she was obviously in a position to owe him, now. And then he looked at her face.

She had kind eyes. He hated that he had always thought so. Maybe that's why he's been so appalled and rather disgusted that her sympathies had been so deeply wrapped up in Bates and all his sad, pathetic drama.

He sighed, thinking that it was idiotic to let this moment go, but that he'd probably do what she asked.

He said, instead, "I think you should tell Mrs. Hughes or Mr. Carson. So that the others can avoid him." His fists curled at the thought of Jensen, of that bastard, getting away with what he obviously had tried.

Anna nodded then, "Yes, yes, of course. That would be wise." She wiped the trace of tears off her cheeks, and pulled herself tall, straightening her apron and moved to let herself out.

As she reached the door, she turned and glanced back at him.

"Who would have thought I'd be indebted to you, of all people."

Thomas stiffened, any sympathy he'd felt for her instantly wiped from him at her words, and opened his mouth for a cutting reply, when she continued, her mouth turned up a little, hardly a smile by Anna's standards, but a slight one nonetheless.

"It was practically sweet. Thank you, Thomas," and then she was gone.

Thomas paused for a moment, unused to feeling so unsettled, and then stepped out of room to resume his rounds.


	2. Chapter 2

Spring had finally come to Downton. While there weren't great climactic differences between the seasons, there was enough that preparing the house for spring became an annual event that required everyone to pitch in: turning the rugs, replacing the thicker winter bedding for the light summer linens, changing the pantry over from the all the winter food store to stock more suitable for spring fare, clearing out the winter stable muck and laying down fresh mulch for the warmer weather, disrobing all the plants and gardens from their winter protections. The entire house was alive with activity from dusk to dawn during the week-long transition.

There was much heavy lifting that all the men, upstairs and downstairs, partook in this time of year, but the ladies, too, had their fair share of work cut out for them. The maids especially, bore a lion's share of housework, as the linens, clothes, curtains, and coverings fell within their domain of responsibility.

Though Anna had been promoted from housemaid to lady's maid, both she and Miss O'Brien were required to work alongside the housemaids in this enormous annual task. Anna didn't mind: she'd been doing it for her whole career at Downton and didn't expect working for Lady Mary would change that. Miss O'Brien, of course, had something to say at every task, as she did every year, but then, this was completely expected.

This year, Anna wondered how she would do, for this year was different, for her at least. While she was glad that Mr. Bates and she had had a year of just each other - getting used to each other, she grinned - and making a home of their cottage and in John's case, learning to live less guardedly and more openly, they'd decided a little while back to expand their family of two. And, five months later, here she was, with child.

She'd had it confirmed with Dr. Clarkson only last Wednesday and as she had anticipated, John had been thrilled to tears, so glad for her, for them and for their dream of family. It was still only between them; they had yet to share the news to those closest to them. Thankfully, as yet, he seemed to be an interested and not overbearing husband. Part of that, she knew, was due to the fact that Anna was and continued to be healthy and hearty, one of those women whose bodies carried children with grace and ease (knock on wood, at least thus far), with no symptoms of the illness and exhaustion which so often accompanied this early phase. She had been working the same as always, and no one, not Lady Mary, not John, and not even Anna at the start, had any inkling she'd been carrying. As long as she was sensible, neither of them were unduly concerned at the upcoming spring cleaning.

And so she found herself in one of the grand rooms, whose heavy window coverings were to be replaced with the sheerer fabrics of the warmer season. Half the staff seemed to be about today, working on the carpet, the drapes, the window seats, and off in the corner, a leaky corner that had only recently been noticed. Her own Mr. Bates was helping with clearing out the items stored under the window seats, random knick knacks for various costume themes, items that could use a little culling.

He'd winked at her when she'd arrived, and she was buoyant, her step light with the newfound secret and delight shared between them.

She'd only just stepped onto a chair to stretch up and unhook the drape from the wall when she heard a scream from one of the maids and a shout - John's voice, across the room, calling her name - and before she knew it, she was flung off her chair.

She instinctively curled inward, in the brief instant that she realized she was falling or flying, and braced herself.

She bumped forcefully into something, heard a loud clanging, and then all was still.

She found herself lying down on the floor. Anna took stock of herself. There wasn't any pain, not a bit, and no part of her ached in particular, she wriggled, and all seemed to be in working order. There was a clamour of voices all around, mostly calling her name and exclamations of despair. She responded to it with, "I'm alright, I'm alright," and tried to get up.

An arm looped around her waist kept her pinned down. She awkwardly craned her head, and to her immense surprise, there was Thomas. She was half laying atop him, and realized that it was his body that was cushioning her. His eyes were closed, and to her horror, she saw blood by his head. "Thomas," she cried, and suddenly all the attention that had fixed on her shifted to him.

Hands helped her free of him, then they turned to Thomas. Anna was pulled her up, passed along, until, somewhat shakily, she came to be standing in John's embrace. His hands were upon her back, stroking up and down. His face was a little grim, and she could see his anxiety. She quickly assured him, "I am not hurt, more startled than anything," and took his hand, giving it a squeeze. "What happened?"

John spoke then, "We're not quite sure. The rods for the drapes somehow lost their mooring and started to come down, right over where you were standing. Thomas…I don't know how, but he moved quickly, very quickly, to push you out of the way, but then he had you, and he fell too, and cushioned your descent. He must have bumped his head against the wall there."

The rods were of thick metal, very heavy. There was no need for him to tell her that it could have been very bad had she been struck. John looked gravely at her, adding, "He bore the weight of your fall."

At the last, his voice had gone husky and his hand slid down and lay flat against her lower belly. Anna blinked away tears as she realized his worry, and her own fear, over the little life within her womb and the relief that all was well.

She turned and knelt down where Thomas lay. Someone else, maybe Ivy, had folded a towel and placed it under his head, where it had hit the baseboard. A quick assessment showed that nothing at least looked broken, no limbs bent awkwardly. Someone had been sent to fetch Dr. Clarkson, good. Her stomach lurched at the thought that he could have seriously injured his head, and she called his name.

Reaching for his hand, she called him again. "Thomas, Thomas, oh, you idiot," and at that, his eyes opened.

Holding his hand, Anna's eyes filled with tears of relief, and continued, "What did you do, you scoundrel?" She brushed his hair off his forehead as he grimaced in pain as he gained consciousness.

Mr. Carson had arrived and gently, he eased Anna away to take a closer look himself at Thomas. She shifted over but remained kneeling by Thomas' head.

She heard John telling Mr. Carson what had happened: "The drapes rod somehow had come loose from its rings above and was falling, and it's very likely that it would have fallen upon Anna…had not Thomas seen to pull her out of the way."

She glanced at John, but he wasn't looking at her. He was staring at Thomas, a strange expression on his face.

At Thomas' head, she leant down and whispered, "Oh, thank you, Thomas. You don't know what you've done, for me and for Mr. Bates."


End file.
